


The Hunt of Stags and Wolves

by Jokerang (SpaceShark)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - The Battle of the Blackwater, Ensemble Cast, Game of Thrones spoilers, King Robb, King Stannis, Multiple Pairings, Robb Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-23 17:07:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9667424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceShark/pseuds/Jokerang
Summary: AU. To get the Tyrells to his cause, Stannis made Renly the Hand of the King. After winning Blackwater, he begrudgingly let Robb keep the Riverlands and the North. Now, two years after Stannis was crowned, a fresh set of intrigue is about to set Westeros on fire again, all while a Targaryen girl with dragons moves ever closer.





	1. Chapter 1

Finally a coronation could occur.

The path to Stannis Baratheon's rule over King's Landing had not been an easy one. He'd had to give Renly the position of Hand of the King (Davos' idea, of all people) to secure the allegiance of the Tyrells. Then he'd had to storm King's Landing with his troops while Renly and his Tyrell "allies" marched on slowly from the west on foot. Someone in the Lannister camp had decided to use wildfire on Stannis' fleet, and half of it burned. But it was a doomed cause; the Tyrells were at the other end of the city walls, and King's Landing was sacked thoroughly.

There were a number of defectors, useful as bargaining chips in the future. Tyrion Lannister, the Imp, had surrendered without much a fight. Given his disdain for the rest of his family, he might become the new Warden of the West. Sandor Clegane, the Hound, had killed most of the loyalist Kingsguard and led Stannis' troops right to Joffery and Cersei. Sansa Stark, a virtual prisoner in the castle, would be the greatest bargaining chip of all. Through her, an agreement with Robb Stark and the Tullys residing in the North could be reached with.

But it was a matter for another day. There was lots to do when one took the Iron Throne.

Today was the makeshift coronation; the execution of Joffery and Cersei would be tomorrow. Stannis would have preferred to do a coronation with the rituals of the Lord of Light. However, both Davos and Renly insisted with the usual coronation of the Seven, with the High Septon doing most of the talking.

"… _May the Warrior grant him courage, and protect him in these perilous times. May the Smith grant him strength, that he might bear this heavy burden. And may the Crone, She that knows the fate of all men, show him the path he must walk, and guide him through the dark places that lie ahead. In the light of the Seven, I now proclaim Stannis of the House Baratheon, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. Long may he reign!"_

"Long may he reign!" The cry of loyalty echoed through the men in the room, mostly lords and ladies of Storm's End and Highgarden. Among the more prominent were Renly, Loras and Margarey Tyrell, Tyrion Lannister, and of course, his own wife and daughter. After a long line of everyone swearing fealty to the new holder of the Iron Throne, Stannis cleared his throat.

"Today I sit upon the Iron Throne, as is my right. I take no pleasure in becoming King, but it is my duty as the next senior member of House Baratheon. The false pretender Joffery, his mother Cersei, and those that refused to renounce them will be executed tomorrow is sight of all the gods. And in the days following, I will deal with the so-called King in the North, who claims half of my kingdom as his own. Given how the late Eddard Stark recognized me as king before his untimely death, perhaps Robb can be reasoned with.

"Today begins a new era for Westeros. We will unite with the North and Riverlands, put an end to the remaining rebellions of Greyjoy and Lannister, and secure peace for the realm again once more."

* * *

 

_Two weeks later_

Edmure Tully walked into the tent that Robb was using as his temporary headquarters. Present were Robb, his mother Catelyn, his great-uncle the Blackfish, Roose Bolton, the Greatjon, and Rickard Karstark. "Your Grace, Stannis and his entourage have arrived."

"See them in."

A moment later, Stannis and another man, Davos Seaworth, walked in, and offered curt nods. "Robb," began Stannis.

"That's _'Your Grace'_ , sire. That's the King in the North you're speaking to-"

"Enough, Brynden," said Robb, firmly but without raising his voice. "Let Stannis and I speak as equals. Your Grace, congratulations on winning King's Landing. Your victory was an impressive one."

"I might say the same about your recent battles against the Lannisters." Tywin Lannister had been forced deeper and deeper into the Westerlands, almost at the point where Lannisport could be besieged. "But we are not here to talk about military glory. I presume you received my raven?"

"I did. And as much as my father supported your claim to the Iron Throne, I cannot bend the knee to you now. We have come too far to lose what we have accomplished."

"You know I would despise losing half of _my_ rightful lands." Stannis remained firm. "And I may just take them by force, but I would rather it not come to that."

"I think otherwise. Despite your victory at Blackwater, wildfire killed half your troops and burned a significant part of your fleet. You now must rely on the Tyrell armies to keep order, and their first loyalty is to Renly, not you. And my spies assure me that Renly is not about to throw them away fighting a doomed northern war."

"And mine assure me that Winterfell is currently being held by the Ironborn," countered Stannis. "It would be a shame if you didn't get back there and take care of Theon Greyjoy." He paused, letting all the information sink in. "Leave us," said Robb, and only Stannis remained over the map of Westeros.

"If I were to let the North remain free-" began Stannis.

"And the Riverlands."

Stannis sighed. "And the Riverlands, I would expect some sort of compensation in return. My terms are this: I want the North's help in dealing with any remaining Lannister remnants left in the South. Our two kingdoms are to remain allies. We will still supply men for the Wall, as it is not just the North it protects. We shall trade and share the same coinage. We will be two kingdoms in name only."

There was more, thought Robb. With Stannis there had to be more.

"I want several marriage pacts to seal our alliance. Your brother Brandon is about the same age as my daughter Shireen. When they come of age they are to marry."

Robb could agree to that. "Fine."

"And Sansa. Renly and the Tyrells have insisted that she be married to Loras Tyrell."

Robb wasn't too surprised by that request either, given that the Tyrells were arguably the second most powerful house in the south now. He'd never met Loras but knew the heir to Highgarden would make a far better husband for her than Joffery. "At least let her be returned home to see her family first. She deserves that much after being forced to watch my father die at the hands of that monster Joffery. And what of Arya?"

"Alas," said Stannis. "No one has seen or heard of her since your father's death. Tyrion has assured me that he will open up the Lannister coffers to fund a reward for her safe return."

Robb wanted to yell but he knew Stannis couldn't do anything for that matter. "I also want my father's body retuned to me, to receive all the dignity Joffery never showed him. And his sword, too."

"Already done." Stannis opened the tent flap to show a large wooden crate being drawn by several horses, the banners of House Stark and House Baratheon flying over it. "His sword is also in there. And if I may, I will be headed north for his funeral. I owe him that much."

The rest of the terms were drawn up by Davos and several of Robb's bannermen. Jamie Lannister was to be exiled to the Wall, never to see the South again. The Stark and Baratheon armies would work in close coordination to defeat the remaining Lannister forces. Once Tywin was defeated, he and Gregor Clegane would be marched to face trial in Dorne, as a way of securing the Martells' loyalty to Stannis. Petyr Baelish would be captured and tried by both North and South for his crimes. And Arya was to be returned at the soonest time possible.

Meanwhile, outside the tent, Robb talked with his mother. She made a close confidante for matters like this.

"…and Sansa is to marry Loras Tyrell."

"Renly's lover?"

Robb made a hush sound. "Renly and his Tyrell allies are now the main supporters of Stannis. What they want will often coincide with what the Iron Throne decides."

"Well," began Cat, rubbing her forehead. "It's not the worst thing to happen. Far better than for her to be stuck with Joffery. And I pray to all the Seven that Arya is found."

"She will. Stannis said that much."

"I do hope he's ok with giving the North and Riverlands to you. I'm sure he stressed that your father backed his claim to all seven kingdoms."

"And father is dead, and now our lands are free. Unless Stannis wants his victories to fall apart he'll work with us, not against us."

When the terms were finished, Stannis proposed a toast. "To the two Kings of North and South."

"To the two kings!"


	2. Cast of Characters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As promised, a list of characters.

**The North**

_House Stark_

Robb I Stark, King in the North and of the Riverlands  
Catelyn Stark nee Tully, his mother and advisor  
Talisa Stark nee Maegyr, Robb's wife and niece of one of the Triarchs of Volantis  
Eddard II Stark, infant son and heir of Robb  
Sansa Stark, Lady of Flowers, wife of Loras Tyrell  
Arya Stark, the younger of Robb's sisters, prone to un-ladylike pursuits  
Brandon Stark, Robb's crippled brother, engaged to Shireen Baratheon  
Rickon Stark, Robb's youngest brother

_Houses of the North sworn to Robb Stark_

Roose Bolton, head of House Bolton and Lord of the Dreadfort  
Ramsay Bolton, Roose's legitimized bastard son  
Rickard Karstark, head of House Karstark, a cadet branch of House Stark  
Harold Karstark, Rickard's last surviving son and heir  
Greatjon Umber, head of House Umber  
Smalljon Umber, his son and heir  
Lyanna Mormont, Lady of Bear Island

_The Riverlands and Iron Islands_

Edmure Tully, Lord Paramount of the Trident, regent of the Iron Islands  
Brendyn "Blackfish" Tully, Robb's senior commander of Tully forces  
Walder Frey, Lord of the Twins, feels slighted at multiple marriage offers broken  
Ryman Frey, senior grandson of Walder, heir to the Twins  
Lothar Frey, steward of the Twins  
Yara Greyjoy, last surviving child of Balon Greyjoy, married to Edmure Tully

_The Wall_

Jeor Mormont, Lord Commander of the Night's Watch  
Jon Snow, secret son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, passed off as Eddard Stark's bastard son  
Samwell Tarly, close friend of Jon  
Jamie Lannister, the Kingslayer, condemned to live out the rest of his days at the Wall  
Ygritte, Jon's lover, a wildling

**The South**

Stannis I Baratheon, King of the Andals and the First Men  
Sleyse Baratheon nee Florent, his wife and queen  
Shireen Baratheon, daughter of Stannis, engaged to Brandon Stark  
Renly Baratheon, brother of Stannis, Hand of the King, Lord of Storm's End, and heir to the Iron Throne  
Margaery Tyrell, wife of Renly  
Gordian Baratheon, infant son of Renly and Margaery  
Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden  
Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers, married to Sansa, lover of Renly  
Davos Seaworth, Stannis' most trusted advisor, Master of Ships  
Melisandre, the Red Priestess of R'hilor  
Tyrion Lannister, Warden of the West and Master of Coin  
Varys, a eunuch, Master of Whisperers  
Olenna Tyrell née Redwyne, de facto head of House Tyrell  
Oberyn Martell, royal ambassador of Dorne  
Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard  
Robin Arryn, Lord of the Vale

**Essos**

Daenerys Targaryen, Queen of various former Valyrian cities  
Jorah Mormont, her trusted advisor  
Grey Worm, commander of the Unsullied  
Honorius Maeygr, one of the Triarchs of Volantis  
Daario Naharis, commander of the Second Sons sellsword company, sworn to Daenerys  
Euron Greyjoy, uncle of Yara and pirate of fearsome repute


	3. By Right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how long each chapter should be. For now I'll be doing two POVs per chapter with about 2000 words. As before, I apologize for any characterization errors, as my knowledge of the fandom is a bit rusty.

_Robb_

"What does the first raven say?"

Robb opened the letter, and read to Catelyn, Talisa, and the new Maester; the previous one had been killed by Theon. "Sansa is with child. She will give birth to a future heir of Highgarden."

"How wonderful," said Talisa.

"About time," remarked Catelyn smugly. They all remembered the letter of Sansa's horrified discovery that her husband slept with men. Apparently she'd caught Loras in the act. "I was wondering whether she'd ever forgive the Tyrell boy for that."

"According to the rest of the letter, she and Loras are getting along better, although it's more of a platonic friendship than the fairy tale she dreamed of as a little girl." Robb put down the first raven and picked up the next one. "This comes from House Frey."

Catelyn groaned. Robb had originally been promised to one of Walder Frey's many daughters, but that had been cast aside when he'd met and married Talisa. It was a similar story with Edmure: after conquering the Iron Islands and executing Balon and Theon, Yara was left as the heir to the Salt Throne. After a long council meeting, it was decided that Edmure would marry Yara, and their children would rule both the Riverlands and the Iron Islands in Robb's name.

"Which marriage proposal does Lord Frey send this time?" asked Talisa. Robb and his family had gotten accustomed to receiving a new marriage alliance every month. With so many mouths to feed and heirs fighting over table scraps when Walder would die, it only made sense to marry off as many of them as possible. Too bad most of them looked as sleazy as their forbearer.

"Arya to Pertinan Frey, Lord Walder's fifteenth son… A lad of seventeen. Maester Wilx, put it with the rest of the ravens Lord Walder has sent us. When the time comes I might actually respond to one of them."

The informal meeting being done with, Robb headed down to Winterfell's courtyard, where Arya was sparing with Harold Karstark. Arya had not changed her tomboyish ways, and Robb gave in and asked Rickard Karstark to led his son as a teacher in the arts of warfare. Robb would have done it himself had being King not taken up much of his time.

"Ser Harold," he hailed from a flight of stairs that creaked with every step.

"Your Grace," Harold was the last surviving son of House Karstark, and negotiations were in place for him to marry one of the Manderly girls. He needed to marry and father sons to ensure the survival of his house.

"How goes my sister's training?" Arya refused to wear women's clothes, preferring her boyish outfit from her days on the run. She'd been found a month after the Lannister's final defeat at Casterly Rock, with the knight who'd found her given lands and a spot in Tyrion Lannister's household. Robb had relented to Arya and commissioned a suit of armor, specifically designed to her measurements. Her breastplate proudly showed the wolf of House Stark.

"Better every day. Her small size is both strength and a weakness. She just needs to find the right balance for herself."

Arya's face suggested otherwise, and that she was just as good as Harold. "Fight me, brother."

Robb laughed, and then realized she was serious. Amused, he picked up one of the sparing swords and began to have a lighthearted go.

It was a mistake. Arya was a much better fighter than he thought she was. Months of training with the best knights of the North had worked their magic on the younger Stark girl. Her little sword Needle swung through the air and actually came close to getting him several times. "Don't go easy on me because I'm a girl."

"I'm not."

"Then why can I do this?" Suddenly Arya kicked Robb down and forced him on his back. "You shouldn't take a woman lightly."

Robb reached for a wooden sword just a foot away and swung it until it just reached Arya's neck. "And if this was a real battle, you'd be dead. Ser Harold, keep training her. She's good but lacking in finesse."

"As you say, your Grace."

The last thing Robb set out to do for the afternoon involved Jon Snow. In his father's study, Robb had found a box with multiple locks, marked to him. After painstakingly removing all of them, Robb found the truth about Jon's parentage: he was not a bastard Stark, but the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. His mother had died giving birth to him, and Eddard had raised the boy as a bastard to hide his existence from King Robert, who wanted every Targaryen he could find dead.

Jon entered from a gate on the other side of the courtyard. His Night's Watch robes matched his raven black hair well. Robb had received letters of Jon's exploits on the Wall, including battles with the White Walkers, and they alone would have earned what Robb was giving his secret cousin today.

"You called me from the Wall, your Grace," said Jon.

"I did." He handed Jon a scroll. "From this day until your last, your name is Jon Stark, son of Eddard Stark. You will be released from your vows to the Night's Watch and be given lands, titles, and the castle of Ramsgate to your name."

Jon was silent for a moment. All his life he'd been Ned Stark's "extra" son. Now, he was the same as Bran and Rickon. He embraced his brother in a bear hug. "I am honored," was all he could manage to get out from his throat.

"I have also arranged for your companions at the wall to join you in your new castle. Samwell Tarly and the wildling girl you're fond of will both be joining you. Tonight we celebrate."

And indeed, that night a feast was held in honor of Jon Snow becoming Jon Stark. Towards the end, Harold Karstark tapped his drinking cup and raised it. "To the newest member of House Stark and new Lord of Ramsgate: Jon Stark!"

"To Jon Stark!" The cheer echoed throughout the great hall of Winterfell. Little did anyone know that his first year as Lord of Ramsgate would be a hectic one.

_Euron_

Euron Greyjoy threw the redheaded slave girl off of him and gave her to Bassus, his companion. "Hold her. I want to take her with me."

"As you say," said the fellow Ironborn. Bassus had accompanied Euron in all of his travels, from burning Tywin Lannister's fleet to sailing up and down the Jade Sea for treasure.

Exiting the house whose owner had been stabbed to death not ten minutes earlier, Euron saw much of the Tyrosh coastline burning, his men plundering what they could. In ten minutes they'd be back in fifty ships to sail for Westeros. It was the last trip in a series of raids across the Free Cities – those not conquered by the Targaryen girl, anyhow.

Euron's news of the events in Westeros had come in pieces. First it was that Joffery Baratheon was in fact full Lannister. Then there was Eddard Stark's execution. He'd been in Myr when news came to him of the rebellions of Stannis and Robb, as well as foolish Balon's second attempt at independence for the Iron Islands. What did that get him? His head severed, the head of his last surviving son severed, and his daughter married to the Tullys for good measure.

Sometimes he even wondered why he was bothering to go back to Westeros. Better to keep raiding Essos, conquer a city, and rule it to his death. But the Iron Islands were home. No Ironborn could bear to leave them for so long, even him. So it took a bold step of faith in the Drowned God, as well as some well-paid sellswords in the form of the Golden Company, to hatch his plan. He'd cross the Riverlands to get to the Iron Islands, living off the land and pillaging them in the process. Then, he'd send ravens south to King's Landing for the Baratheon armies to sieze the moment and take what was theirs in the North.

Euron knew of Stannis' resentment of losing half of his _rightful_ kingdom to Robb Stark. Euron didn't know what made the fool so obsessed with snow and more snow, but he wasn't going to pass up this opportunity. Starks and Tullys be damned. He'd be on the Salt Throne however he damned well pleased.

He'd gone over the plan with the Golden Company captains before the raid on Tyrosh. While he took several ships to King's Landing to negotiate with Stannis, the majority of the company, along with some of his personal forces, would force their way into the Bay of Crabs and seize Saltpans. From there, they'd move up the Trident and lay siege to Harroway - if the Tullys even realized what was happening and managed to rally forces. From there they'd take Fairmarket and Oldstones, building ships for Euron and his Ironborn to sail to the Iron Islands and get rid of Yara's Tully husband.

In return for their service, the Golden Company would be resettled in the Riverlands, which Euron planned for Stannis to conquer and make his life easier. Otherwise, they could rebel. But the Golden Company had never broken a contract. He doubted they would now.

"Bassus, is the Silence ready?"

"Aye. It looks like Tyrosh has some troops moving in. We'd better hurry."

"All they'll find is ash." Euron took the girl from Bassus and threw over his shoulder, walking towards the Silence. "You'd better perform as well as you did in your master's house, or I'm throwing you off in the Narrow Sea."

As she meekly nodded, Euron moved ever closer to his ship, crewed by men with tongues cut out. As they set out back into the Narrow Sea, Euron began planning the second part of his plan.

After the Golden Company landed in the Riverlands, the ships would be idle, the pirates restless. Perhaps they could be put to use in the North. The Three Sisters and White Harbor were the logical choices: from there the Baratheon armies wouldn't have to worry about taking Moat Cailin if they could just go through the Manderly lands. This meant besieging the south of the North, of course, and Euron's forces were better equipped for raids, not war. However, he doubted the Manderlys would be able to put up much resistance with the vast majority of the Northern armies tied up in defense of the Riverlands.

He'd need to think on it. But for now, it was time to enjoy the spoils of his raid. He found the slave girl hiding in one of the cabins.

"Didn't think you'd get very far, did you?"

The girl nodded timidly. She looked ready to cry.

Euron kicked her down and pulled off his pants. "Off with your clothes. Any complaining and you'll be sorry."


	4. Preparing

_King's Landing, The Small Council_

"The Greyjoy's offer will be discussed later in this meeting." The Small Council of Stannis Baratheon had been assembled: Renly, Tyrion, Varys, Davos, Melisandre, Oberyn, new Grand Maester Gormon Tyrell, and Margaery. A table with more chairs than desirable. But all of them had their purpose for the council. Stannis pulled up his chair and sat. "But first, affairs of state in the rest of the world. What news from the Riverlands? I want Euron Greyjoy's claims to be checked out."

Varys, as Master of Whisperers, spoke first. "Your Grace, my little birds have reported that the infamous sellsword company, the Golden Company, have indeed sailed across the Narrow Sea. They have taken Saltpans and are moving north along the Trident, towards where the forks meet."

"All the way to the Iron Islands through the RIverlands?" commented a skeptical Renly. "It seems quite a task, and one that would require a great deal of faith from the Golden Company."

"They are well known for never breaking their deals," said Oberyn. "And during my travels in the Free Cities, few men were as feared as Euron, or rumored to be as wealthy. I would not be surprised to see him buying the Golden Company for an extended task such as this."

"And the only person feared in Essos more than Euron Greyjoy is Daenerys Targaryen," said Stannis, his voice somber as ever. News of a Targaryen girl with three dragons and a diversified army kept getting closer and closer in the last few months. "Varys, what updates on her whereabouts?"

"In addition to the Slavers Bay and much of the Dothraki Sea, Daenerys has conquered the Free Cities of Volantis, Qohor, Norvos, and Mantarys, although your Grace already knows of this."

"The exiled Mormont heir at her side, at least two sellsword companies, the Unsullied, and to top it off three dragons," commented Tyrion Lannister. He'd been Master of Coin ever since Stannis had taken over King's Landing, and although his money management skills were satisfactory, he'd been kept around for his insightful, if alarmingly crass, advice and insight. He frowned. "Nothing to take lightly."

"Dragons haven't won a war in hundreds of years. Arms win them all the time," replied Stannis, not impressed.

"Heed the words of the Lord's Chosen," said Melisandre. "He speaks wisdom."

Margaery wanted to roll her eyes. Ever since she'd been given a spot on the Small Council, she'd noticed the sway the Red Woman held over the King. The Seven remained the majority religion in Westeros, but the cult of the Lord of Light had gained innumerable followers ever since the most powerful follower of R'hilor won the Battle of Blackwater. She was the High Septon in all but name, and her place on the Small Council seemed to be one of flatterer.

She also knew of the King's private "activities", with the Red Woman, but she didn't care. Stannis only used her for his sense of "duty". And _her_ , too. It was lovemaking of convenience, since Renly preferred her brother, and she knew Stannis was more wooed by duty than lust. Of course, Margaery slept with Renly too, to prevent any question of who Gordian Baratheon's father was, but she was fairly certain that after Renly's death the Iron Throne would pass in Stannis' male line. Secretly, of course.

Her thinking had caused her to be distracted from the council talk. "…and her dragons have been told to become uncontrollable at times," said Varys. "We will negotiate with her when the time comes. Now, your Grace mentioned a deal Euron Greyjoy offered."

"Yes. Euron wants our military aid in defeating the armies of the Riverlands and the North. He will get his Salt Throne, and I will gain the half of the Kingdom I sold away back. What do we think, councilors?"

"I'd take it with caution, Your Grace," spoke Davos, the Master of Ships. "Robb Stark will not take kindly on a backtrack of peace in the realm. And if I may, my time at sea has allowed me to hear much of Euron Greyjoy. He's said to have planned the downfall of half his family, and is not to be trusted."

"This is a golden opportunity," said Renly. "With Robb Stark's forces distracted with Euron and the Golden Company, now is the time to strike. If Euron tries to backstab us, we will deal with it according and from a position of advantage. I can assure you that the armies of the Reach and Stormlands will support this reconquest of what is ours."

"Mine."

"Yes, _your's_. Brother."

"Let's not get there," said Tyrion. "Renly is right, Your Grace: a distracted enemy is always a good one to attack. Cheating, yes, but the game of thrones is too dull without it. I say invade."

It was put to a vote. Renly, Tyrion, Oberyn, Melisandre, Margaery, and the Grand Maester all voted yes. Davos found himself alone in voting no. Varys didn't care either way; his first job was to the realm.

"It is decided," said Stannis. "We will us this god given opportunity to seize what is rightfully mine. We will take the Riverlands and perhaps march all the way to Winterfell. And if not… the North will no longer be the looming threat it has been for the past two years."

Leaving Renly to deal with details that could be altered at the utterance of a single word, Stannis decided to see his daughter. She'd been betrothed to the crippled Bran Stark, who would in all likelihood make a good match for the disfigured Shireen. Despite being his only child, the grayscale had ensured a more difficult time finding a groom than desired. Perhaps a cripple would be content with a less than perfect bride.

But if the North and South were to go to war, the marriage would be for naught. And Stannis had a new husband in mind: Robin Arryn. Although sickly, he was the only son of Jon Arryn, and thus controlled the neutral kingdom of the Vale. With the Vale's strategic position next to the Riverlands, Stannis wanted to ensure their neutrality again.

And what better than a marriage alliance?

Sure, she'd been writing letters to Bran this time. And perhaps the two could still be friends. But no more. He'd find a way to make her understand. She was his daughter, and a father only wanted what was best for his child.

"Shireen," Stannis began, walking into his daughter's bedchambers. She was playing with a toy boat, one that resembled the new Baratheon flagship _Robert's Hammer._ "Did you receive a letter from Brandon Stark recently."

"Yes, father. He spoke his dreams again."

Stannis let out a long sigh. "There's been an alteration in your betrothal…"

_Yara, Riverrun_

Yara examined the bulge in her belly once more. Within it was a slowly growing child. If it was a boy, he would rule not just the Iron Islands as her heir, but the Riverlands as the son of Edmure Tully.

It had been quite a journey to be where she was now. After Robb and Stannis made an uneasy peace, the North's attention was turned to dealing with the Ironborn holding Winterfell. Theon's men, grossly outnumbered, turned on Theon to save themselves. And the Iron Islands fell not long afterwards, with the whole North's attention on quashing the troublesome islands that had held Winterfell, even if for a brief time.

She remembered Theon's execution as if it were yesterday:

_It was raining inWinterfell. Half the lords of the North had been assembled: Bolton, Karstark, Manderly, Umber, along with several Tullys and Freys. Herself, captured trying to take the Moat for the Iron Islands, had been kept alive – for now. She was forced to watch this farce of a trial and execution._

_There would be no mercy for her last brother. Raised alongside the Stark children, he'd betrayed them as soon as the opportunity arose, killing the master-at-arms and Maester of Winterfell in the process. Her only solace was that he would be given a clean death, as opposed to slow and painful torture that some of the Northern lords, such as Roose Bolton, had suggested._

_Theon was marched to the chopping block by two of Robb's guards. He remained defiant to the end, and made no attempt to beg the man who he once considered a brother for his life._

_Robb remained equally stone faced. He uttered a single word: "Why?"_

_Theon took a few seconds to speak his answer. "For my father, my family, who you ripped from me."_

" _Your true father was Eddard Stark. He raised you as one of his own, and that didn't stop you from dishonoring his memory with your treacherous actions. Kneel."_

_Theon was force down on his knees._

" _Theon Greyjoy, in sight of gods and men, I sentence you to death. Do you have any last words?"_

" _Kill me and be done with it! You were never my brother-"_

_Robb swung Ice down on the neck of the man who he considered at one point to be his closest friend. After Theon's head fell off and rolled to the ground, Yara tried her best not to cry. Her face gave away no grief through tears._

_Robb threw Ice and clenched his fists, teeth grinding in anger. He walked away from the scene of the execution as the guards collected Theon's body for a quiet burial._

_Her father would be next, once the last of the Iron Islands fell._

After Balon Greyjoy's death, it was decided that Yara would be married to Edmure Tully, and that the Iron Islands would become part of the Riverlands. Whoever came up with that idea had obviously been reading their history, given the bad blood between the two regions of Westeros.

At least Edmure was a good husband. He truly cared for her and the people he ruled. Every day he was personally listening to the grievances of both the smallfolk of the Riverlands and Iron Islanders. He was always striving to be the example of a just and noble ruler. And one could hardly hate that kind of person, even if they were forced into marriage with them.

Today, though, the noise from Riverrun's main hall was one of angry shouting. Yara left her chambers and went to the hall to find Edmure raising his voice at his uncle Brendyn and several other Riverlands lords:

"And you mean to tell me that the entire Golden Company is ravaging my lands, following the river without opposition?!"

"My lord, we must-"

"We must fight back. Mallister, Blackwood, and Ryger, recruit what forces you can near the Trident and hold the enemy's advance. Brendyn, send ravens to the rest of our bannermen as well as my sister. Robb will come down from Winterfell to help us."

As Edmure's friends and uncle went out to do their orders, Yara approached her husband. "I heard raised voices?"

"Yara, you shouldn't be up. The baby-"

"Will be fine." Not surprisingly, Edmure's focus changed fairly quickly when she entered the room. "I heard something of the Golden Company. What of it?"

"Your uncle. He intends to march to Pyke through our land. And he has hired the Golden Company to help him."

Euron. A Greyjoy, but not one loved by the rest. He'd raped his brother's wife and had been exiled by Balon for too many crimes to name. "An uncle in name only. He was exiled long ago, and I hear that he amassed a large fleet and army."

"So why doesn't he just go around the continent and leave my damn lands in peace?"

"Me. He knows that the Riverlands are now bound to the Iron Islands by marriage. This is as much a vendetta against me as it is you. Let me go to the Iron Islands and raise men to take up your cause."

"You? To the Iron Islands? How do I know you won't just start your own rebellion like your late brother did?"

"Have I not been married to you long enough for you to trust me? And besides, I gain nothing from creating another participant in the conflict. I will gather what men I can to assist you against my uncle, and I intend to lead them myself."

"You're with child-"

"And you should know by now that isn't going to stop me."

"Of course." A long pause, and then the Lord of Riverrun spoke again. "Go to Pyke. Tell your fellow Ironborn that I will offer them more self-rule in exchange for helping to fight this usurper terrorizing the innocents of my towns and cities."

"I intend to do just that."

"Good." Edmure kissed his wife. What had been forced upon them had grown into a mutual understanding and respect, if not love just yet. "May the Seven be with you."

"You know I worship the Drowned God. And I intend for my child to do the same."

"Whatever you say."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the Edmure/Yara relationship doesn't seem forced. Same goes for the Small Council meeting.


	5. Reasons for Anger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably not my best work, but I wanted to post something before my tests in college next week. I hope you'll comment as before.

_Arya, Winterfell_

"Impossible!"

Arya took off her helm to see what her brother Robb was so angry about. He and their mother were reading the latest raven from Riverrun.

"You know Stannis always resented giving away the North to you-"

"But we made an oath! He has turned away from it and invaded the Riverlands at the same time Euron Greyjoy does!"

Arya wanted walked up to them and ask, "What happened this time?" But she knew about Alliser Thorne's mutiny at Castle Black, which Lord Commander Mormont only quelled by riding to Winterfell and requesting Stark forces in putting it down. Jamie Lannister could have joined the coup but didn't, and was given the post of First Ranger for even helping to fight off the rogue crows. And not long after that was the White Walker attack. Thought to be creatures of myth, she saw some with her own two eyes. If Jon hadn't learned that dragonglass could kill them, Winterfell might be a burning ruin.

It hadn't been an easy year in the North. And it wasn't getting any easier.

"If Stannis invaded," said Catelyn, "It's because he feels you're not the right man for the job. The Bolton bastard flaying Red Priests coming from the South, the Night's Watch mutiny, Imry Florent's untimely death, and the Others. That's a lot for any one person to deal with in the span of a few years."

While her brother and mother argued, Arya fiddled with her helm. Based on the Hound's canine-like helmet, hers was made in the shape of a direwolf. It had the same sharp fangs and sunken eyes that emblazoned every Stark banner in Winterfell. The visor came up and down, like a halfhelm, except this one was for her, and her alone.

"I'm not a perfect ruler," said Robb, still angry. "But for him to do this… We must assemble the Northern Lords. Maester Wilx, send ravens to Houses Bolton, Umber, Manderly, Karstark, and Mormont to make them aware of the news in the South, and to begin raising forces. And tell Roose Bolton I want a word with him.

"To our cousins in the Riverlands, assure them that the North is coming to their aid with all our might. Tell them that the North is coming, and very soon."

"Can I come?" asked Arya. She knew the answer was probably going to be a solid "no" but there was no harm in trying. Besides, Robb had given her everything she'd requested before.

Their mother was the first to respond. "Absolutely not. Too dangerous for a girl like you-"

"Let me talk to her, mother." Robb took Arya into a separate room, one of the guest bedrooms. "Arya, I know you're interested in the affairs of men. But mother's right. We already lost you once, and it took the huge bounty Tyrion Lannister offered for a group of sellswords to spend two weeks searching for you and your companions at Harranhal. We're just trying to keep you safe. I don't doubt your fighting ability one bit, but it's just not right for a girl to be in the field-"

"Fine," Arya said with obvious disdain for the answer given to her. She went back to the training grounds, and from there into the barracks, where Smalljon Umber was eating several chickens. Harold Karstark had gone to be married to the Manderly girl, and Robb had requested that his friend from Hous Umber take his place for the time being.

Arya served herself some food and slammed the plate on the table where Smalljon was sitting at. He was clearly startled by her pouty attidute. "What's happened with you? You were doing well in sparing this morning."

"My brother. He won't let me go with him to fight."

"Well, yer a girl… Oh. You're serious?"

"I can fight as well as any man in Winterfell. It's not right!"

"You're right," said Smalljon, trying to placate her. "But we live in a world where the man's role is to fight, and the woman's to stay at home and tend to the family."

"My mother can do that."

"Ah yes, but there's a fact you missed: you're _part_ of that family. Your mother cares very much about you. Especially since you went missing."

"I can-"

"Enough. We can talk about this till you're blue in the face and it won't help. Gods help us if we bring your family into it. Now go pick up Needle and fight me outside. You'd better let out that anger on something besides yer kin."

So she did. She rained blow after blow on Umber's shield, not truly realizing she was taking out her anger in practice. It was only when Smalljon had her by the neck had she realized the extent of her destructive anger.

"If it were up to me, I'd let you go to war. But it would kill your mother to risk you dying again."

Arya pouted again.

_Yara, Tully camp east of Riverrun_

"Why bother with them? They're a despicable lot and not worth the effort."

Yara waited for her husband's response, checking her newly designed armor. Based on her old raiding clothes, it had been adjusted for the bump in her belly. Edmure said, "The Freys can raise several thousand men alone. That's more than most of my vassals put together. And although you did good bringing those Ironborn to our cause, they're better on water than foot."

"Then we'll fight from canoes." She grinned.

"That's not the point. We need every soldier we can get, and that's not counting the smallfolk levied for militias."

Yara looked around from the open air tent. Her personal banner, the Greyjoy kraken intermingled with the Tully trout, was on multiple sides of the war camp. The banners of most Riverland houses were here, minus the Freys of course. Smoke from campfires made its way to the sky above as evening began.

The Blackfish, Edmure's uncle, arrived on horseback. Departing his steed, he walked briskly to his nephew and Yara. "Best she be gone."

"Why?" asked Edmure defensively.

"You broke a betrothal to one of Walder Frey's daughters to marry her. The Freys coming to talke might take it as an offense."

"Well, I'm not leaving," said Yara. She'd been forced into marriage, she could deal with the disgruntled relatives of Edmure's old betrothed. Not like they were any tougher than the men of the North.

On time, two Freys followed Brendyn into the camp. One of them was portly and balding; this was Ryman Frey, son of Walder Frey's late eldest son, and thus heir to the Twins. The second was taller, with a weasel like face. This was Lothar, Lord Walder's tenth son and custodian of the Twins. In this aspect, he was the main emissary for his family.

Yara thought Ryman to be disgusting and inconsequential. _If he inherits headship of House Frey, they'll fall apart damn quick._ Lothar, on the other hand, seemed much like her uncle Euron: untrustworthy, but clever and resourceful. Rumor was that Lothar was planning to sieze control should Walder Frey die. _This one is much more dangerous than most of his relatives._

Both of them glanced at her, then shifted their attentions to Edmure. "Lord Edmure," said Ryman in a husky voice. One could literally see the bits of food in his teeth. "Ser Brendyn and Lady Yara." The last two words had an air of contempt."

"Ser Ryman and Ser Lothar," said the Blackfish bluntly. "Go on and state your business."

"As you know, we came as fast as we could. When the _Lord Paramount of the Trident_ requests aid, who are we to refuse?" Lothar took over the conversation. He was just as blunt as Edmure's uncle, and almost mockingly cheerful.

"Name your price," said Edmure. "You have one. The Freys always have one."

"My father is willing to aid the Tully forces in beating back the Golden Company and Euron Greyjoy, but has a few requests. He first wants a formal apology for both you and King Robb for breaking sacred oaths to marry his daughters."

"Agreed," said Edmure. It wasn't like he was bending the knee to Walder Frey in doing so.

"He also wants a second set of Twins built at the Trident, to be inherited by Emmon Frey and his descendants." Emmon Frey was the second son of Walder, married to Tyrion Lannister's aunt.

Edmure and Yara looked on the exact location Lothar proposed. If built, it would give the Freys mastery of the southern Riverlands. "This is an outrage."

"You're acting like we Freys don't know how to manage river crossings."

"We will discuss it later when the time is right. And the next request?"

"My father wants our houses sealed in marriage. Since you can't be married to one of his daughter, your child will do. Whichever sex, Ryman will pick one of his children to marry him or her."

This drew another long silence. Then Edmure said,"Please leave us while we discuss your offers." As the Freys left, Edmure spit at their path.

"No. They overreach pridefully, hoping to bring down their liege lord in the process."

"We can't alienate them," said Brendyn. "Either we give them what they want now or they'll be a thorn in our midst for the foreseeable future."

"They're not entirely necessary. The rest of the Riverlands can easily raise fifteen thousand men without difficulty, perhaps many more if we draft militias and conscripts. And let's not forget Yara's fellow Ironborn."

"Better at sea than land. And the Golden Company of ten thousand is but one part of Euron's army. He probably has several thousand more ragtags and pirates…"

While her husband and his uncle debated over whether to take the Frey offer or not, Yara thought of her child being forced to marry a Frey from birth. A detestable house filled with weasels. Yet Yara had thought the same of her husband, and it had proved to be a fortuitous match. Still, the Tullys were not the Freys.

Now two sets of eyes were on her.

"I say we delay our response until a later date," said Yara. "We may not need the support of a fickle man like Walder Frey if we can prove ourselves on the battle field. What of the North?"

"The latest raven says that House Manderly's forces have linked with those of House Reed to begin the North's first official support of the Riverlands," said the Blackfish. "The rest of the Northern host will be led by Robb Stark himself down from Winterfell. All in due time."

The last four words were almost said mockingly. The Manderlys could only field about fifteen hundred men, and the Reeds not much more if even that. Still, it was reinforcements, and those were needed to end the conflict as quickly as possible. Every day the fight continued, the smallfolk of the Riverlands suffered, and Edmure truly took an interest in their well-being.

Then, a messenger, bearing the Tully trout on his chainmail, rushed in. "My lord Edmure, we've received word from the South. It's not good-"

"Say it," commanded Edmure.

"A large Lannister and Tyrell army has crossed the border. It's an invasion."

"Stannis would never…" Yara was lost in thought.

"He's probably been building up resentment ever since you and Robb purged our lands of those godforsaken red priests," said Brendyn to his nephew. "And those brigands that keep raiding everyone and everybody." Several vigilante and raiding groups had settled in between the areas where the Crownlands met the Riverlands. They attacked everyone alike, and several Tully attempts to root them out had failed, due to the fact that they had no permanent home.

"Contact the brigands in the border regions. See what can be done to turn them on the invaders." Edmure seemed more forceful with news of another attack on his lands. "Yara, how good are your Ironborn in hit and run attacks?"

"Very."

"I want them to begin sabotage/harassing operations against the Tyrell and Lannister supply routes. And please try to stay a distance this time."


	6. The Little Lion and the Young Wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there are any characters you'd like to see become a POV character, let me know in a review or message and I'll do my best.

_Tyrion, near the Stoney Sept_

"AMBUSH!"

The guard on horseback not two feet away from Tyrion Lannister, Warden of the West and Master of Coin, had only a few seconds to scream before his head was impaled on a throwing axe. With a war cry, men in chainmail and halfhelms started running out from the tree line that surrounded this road and began attacking Tyrion's men.

 _Ironborn._ The kraken on the shields gave that much away, but the Tully trout some of the shields had as well made things more interesting. _Yara Greyjoy's personal seal. So our attempts to offer them independence in exchange for rebelling against the Tullys failed._ The sound of steel clanging against wooden shields became louder and louder.

"We can't let them cut us off!" shouted Tyrion. Renly, Loras Tyrell, and an advance force of Reach troops had moved further up in the morning. If the Ironborn took them out, then the Hand of the King and the Knight of Flowers were cut off in hostile territory. While Bronn fought an Ironborn running straight for him, Tyrion took out his crossbow and fired at the next raider in line, hitting him straight in the chest. He went down fast and without even a scream of agony as a runaway horse trampled the poor soul.

"More of them to the left!" warned Tommen Hill, Tyrion's squire. Tommen had been Cersei's youngest child, born of Jamie's seed. After Stannis' victory at Blackwater, Tyrion had petitioned for Tommen and Myrcella to be spared, as they were truly innocent children born to the wrong parents. Stannis had finally relented on the conditions that they were to be given the Westerlands bastard name of Hill, renounced all claims to the Iron Throne, and were excluded from the Casterly Rock line of succession. That didn't bother Tyrion; he'd make sure the two of them were well cared for.

"You," said Tyrion to the nearest Lannister soldier, "hold my horse. We've got Ironborn to kill, and I intend to kill some." Getting off the horse, he dropped the crossbow for a discarded Iron Islands axe. It was smaller than a broadsword, and thus better suited for a dwarf in battle. Catching an Ironborn in the back, Tyrion stabbed the ax hard into the enemy's shoulder, allowing for another sword to finish the job.

A glint of metal. Tyrion ducked to see an Ironborn with a sword after him. A shield blocked the next blow, and the third. Thinking fast, Tyrion dropped the ax to grab the man's wrist the fourth time it went down, catching him off guard. What the enemy thought was a passive attempt at defense became a miniature surprise attack. Tyrion then smashed the shield against the gnarly face of the Ironborn until there wasn't much left of it.

By now, the Ironborn looked like they were trying to cut their losses and fleeing back into the forests, only a few firing arrows as they abandoned their dead and dying. Tyrion got his crossbow back to cut down one last raider who didn't run fast enough to escape an arrow.

"Cowards!" yelled Bronn. "Come here and let us fook you in the ass some more!"

"We won," said Tommen, worn out by the raid. It had been his first real taste of battle. Tyrion didn't want him sheltered forever at Lannisport or in the dungeons of Casterly Rock.

"We did," said Tyrion, realizing that the number of Lannister dead was higher than expected. One of his cousins, Martyn Lannister, had taken a spear to the belly and was good as dead. Several guards took the wounded bodies of younger sons of Houses Marbrand and Westerling off the field and moved them to a better location for the Silent Sisters to treat them. And of course, many ordinary soldiers lay dead and dying, including Iron Islanders.

Tyrion did find one Ironborn that was alive. Clutching his gut, he was dragging himself towards a helmet and sword about three feet in front of him. Tyrion kicked them away and forced the man on his back. The wound to the gut was large, but not untreatable.

"Not today. Your raiding is not tolerated south of Harrenhal. I have many questions regarding the plans of your Greyjoy lady and her husband, and you will be going to meet men who are well paid to extract answers from the defiant." As two Lannister guards removed the wounded enemy, a Tyrell messenger arrived.

"My lord, the Hand and the Knight of Flowers have captured the Stoney-" The messenger, barely a man, looked around to see the dead and dying.

"I'm sure their day was just as exciting and fearful as ours," quipped Tyrion sarcastically. Accompanied by Bronn, he rode to the tent just outside the Stoney Sept, where Renly and Loras had set themselves up after securing the town's surrender.

"It seems the town surrendered without a fight," said Tyrion.

"When ten thousand men of the Reach are at your doors, even moderate walls will not hold," said Loras. "They saw the benefits of bending the knee."

"In return for renewed oaths of loyalty to King Stannis, the town will not be sacked and its people allowed to continue on their way," elaborated Renly. "It'll only take a few dozen knights to keep order here as the rest of our armies move to Riverrun."

Or at least Riverrun was the plan. The Tyrells had raised forty five thousand men for Stannis' war to reconquer the lost kingdoms, a fraction of what they could raise in total. Although Riverrun had never fallen to an opposing army, they didn't need to take it outright. Ten thousand could keep the seat of House Tully isolated while the rest of the Tyrell armies linked up with the Golden Company, and from there both armies could continue on their actual goals: Moat Cailin and the Iron Islands.

"We've received ravens that the Ironborn are staging hit and run attacks on the Lannister convoys." The way Loras made that statement made it seem like a question as well for Tyrion.

"Oh yes. They hope to disrupt us and probably isolate you in their territory. We have no idea how many of them are hiding out in the forests and hills, but we captured a few of them for extracting answers, the hard way of course."

"The Ironborn are fools if they think Edmure Tully will thank them for helping his cause," said Renly with contempt. "Just because he's fucking the Greyjoy girl doesn't mean that he loves them all. Fodder for his armies, no less."

 _That's funny,_ thought Tyrion, _considering the only reason the Tyrells help you is because you spend your nights with Loras Tyrell._ The Reach might have looked the other way to Renly and Loras' relationship, but King's Landing wasn't so forgiving. Tyrion personally didn't care, but the High Sparrow, leader of a new Seven cult, and a good number of Baratheon bannermen did. And thus the homosexual affair was more of an open secret than anything.

"Fodder or not, they'll keep raiding us all the way to the Twins," countered Tyrion. "We'll have to watch our backs every step of the way. And with one eye at our back, we won't have both in front of us."

"We have 100,000 eyes," said Renly. "More than enough to handle a few sideshows. Now, let's send a raven to King's Landing." Stannis was with the Redwyne/Baratheon fleet in Blackwater Bay. Tyrion hoped the land invasion from the Westerlands would hold off their enemies long enough for Stannis to make his own move.

Business being settled and done for the time being, Tyrion walked his way to the Peach, Bronn following close behind. The Peach had been one of Robert Baratheon's favorite brothels during the Rebellion, and he made frequent visits during his reign.

Tyrion wondered if he should actually try to find a bride in the near future. Despite being a dwarf, he was still the Warden of the West and ruler of Lannisport. There were many families that had put up a daughter to become the Lady of Casterly Rock. Tyrion had turned them all down. He would not marry out of some sort of duty, like his father would have made him. No, he'd marry when the time was right, or perhaps legitimize Tommen and train him to become his heir.

It was a problem for another day.

_Robb, Moat Cailin_

"And your troops, Lord Wyman? Did they arrive in good health?"

"Wyman Manderly, head of his house, answered quickly, faster than Robb gave him credit for. Despite being over the age of sixty and obese, the lord of White Harbor retained a sharp wit. "Yes, your Grace. Fifteen hundred men at arms and knights have made the trek from White Harbor to the Neck in good order. Well, not the skeleton crew left at home, but we're not fighting in the North, are we? We'll be fighting in the Riverlands."

"Good to have you and your men here," said Robb. The rest of the Northern host was preparing to march further south down the neck, towards the Twins, where hopefully Walder Frey would not be an issue. "Now please send for Lord Bolton."

Wyman left and closed the door behind him. At the table in a room in the tower sat Robb, his mother, and Rickard Karstark. Arya had also made the journey; her rants and complaints had not ended anytime soon. Catelyn had relented on the condition that she be kept away from all fighting and that she accompany her mother or brother when possible. At the matters of state, however, she was absent. Not that it interested her to begin with.

Roose Bolton arrived a minute later. He was dressed for warfare: his leather armor, adorned with the Bolton flayed man, looked newly made at a craftsman's shop. He had metal shoulder rondels in the shape of human heads, screaming in agony. It was a grim reminder of the brutality of House Bolton's dark past, including flaying men alive. Such days were in the past, however, and Roose Bolton had given no reason for Robb to distrust him.

Except of course, Ramsay Bolton's attacks on R'hilor priests. Ever since Stannis had won at Blackwater, the cult he followed saw an uptick in smallfolk following the Lord of Light. Sometimes the new zealots clashed with members of the Faith Militant, a radical Seven group that had been revived by a man calling himself the "High Sparrow" in the wake of attacks on septs. While Robb and Catelyn were followers of the Seven, most northmen weren't, and Rhilor threatened to upheave the worship of both.

"Your Grace," Roose Bolton had a low voice that in itself commanded attention.

'My lord. Have a seat. I trust you have more information regarding Ramsay's attacks on R'hilor priests?"

Roose didn't budge an inch. "I'm afraid not. As I said before, I can only tell you what Ramsay told me: the red priest was burning weirwood trees and smallfolk who tried to stop him. As for the manner of death, Ramsay has a … well, he has his own way of doing things."

"Flaying pieces of one of the Red Woman's most trusted missionaries?" Robb's voice rose a notch. His father had outlawed flaying in the North.

Both Karstark and Catelyn looked at Robb sharply, but Roose put up a hand, signaling he wanted to explain yourself. "With all due respect, your Grace, I don't see the reason to make a fuss over the death of one fanatic. The man was a clear threat to my lands, and Ramsay acted accordingly."

"It was still unjust. And such treatment of R'hilor followers in our lands may have contributed to Stannis' invasion to invade my lands. He would not do such a thing unless he had good reason."

"Well, I'm sure Euron Greyjoy gave him every reason," suggested Catelyn.

"That alone was just the last in a line of Stannis' supposed grievances against me. Remember, his goodbrother Imry Florent was killed by a rogue band of crows trying to head south." Imry Florent had been Stannis' representative in the North for some time, before reaching his untimely death at the hands of a group of rogue crows on orders from Allister Thorne.

"And the perpetrators were dealt with accordingly," countered Roose. "By your own hands, if I recall correctly. I was there when you swung Ice down on each of their heads."

"But Florent's death still happened under my watch. Just as much as Ramsay's flaying happened under your's."

"Your Grace, if I may." Roose Bolton hardened his tone. "Ramsay's… aversions are minor compared to the current war we must fight. Let your focus be on the latter, not the former. Ramsay is still my heir, even if he disappoints me more than I'd like. At least wait until the war is over to administer any sort of justice."

"He's right," said Karstark. "We have enemies, real enemies, to kill."

Robb looked to his mother, and she had a face that agreed with Lords Karstark and Bolton. "I must serve justice to everyone that has earned it, no matter how high born," said Robb reluctantly. "However, we will wait until after the war is over. For the sake of the realm."

"Thank you," said Roose with a courteous nod.

An hour later, the Northern host was preparing to disembark. The Starks, along with Lords Karstark, Manderly, and Bolton were at the vanguard of the large army, direwolf banners every ten horsemen. Behind them were the thousands of food soldiers, ranging from Volantian mercenaries hired by Talisa to levees from White Harbor. Not a few feet of travel had been completed when a messenger arrived. The Tully banner he held indicated his loyalities.

"Your Grace," said the messenger. "I bring news from the Trident."

"Good or bad?"

"Both."


End file.
